


A Kiss With A Fist Is Better Than None

by pinklights



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Staron - Freeform, Supposedly Fun Spy Adventures, The Americans AU, angsty fake married shit, buckynat - Freeform, dark themes, james barnes is russian?, mention of miscarriage, more like something that vaguely resembles the americans, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-06 19:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18857356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklights/pseuds/pinklights
Summary: James and Natasha moved into a small suburb outside Manhattan just over five years ago. Natasha was a dance teacher and James taught languages in one of those private schools in the city. They were the perfect couple in all fronts. They'd go to the farmers market together on weekends, James would drive Natasha to the dance studio on his way to work sometimes, and they'd go on vacations whenever they'd have the time. They were so perfect that you wouldn’t suspect that they were hiding a man in the trunk of their car in their garage.Things start getting tricky when a couple of blondes move into the house across the street–a SHIELD agent and an ex-military captain.AKA Undercover spy escapades featuring Bucky and Natasha with the special appearance of Steve and Sharon.





	1. Prologue

James watched as his wife talked to one of the mothers that were picking up their children from ballet class. He was leaning against the doorway with a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. _It's our anniversary_ , he explained to one of the dads there. _You're lucky_ , the man said back. James gave a prompt smile which disappeared into a glare as the man stared at Natasha a little too long before he left.

It was Saturday afternoon and the class was finished for the day. A couple of little girls with tutus were running around, balls of energy that wouldn't stop dancing even though it was time to go home. Natasha's hair was up in a tight bun, the red contained. He followed a bead of sweat escape from the chignon, down the length of her neck onto her collarbone before it disappeared into her shirt. He wanted to follow it there. He wanted her to let her hair down. He wanted to go home. Her laugh pulled him away from his thoughts. The mother had finally stopped yapping about the way her daughter would dance around their house after her lessons. Soon, they were left alone, only silence remaining between them.

Natasha started packing her things, her back to him as she hummed a tune he's probably heard before. He approached her quietly, his hands wrapping around her waist as he placed a kiss on the back of her neck. She didn't respond to this, she was used to it by now. He was used to it, too - the silence. _Her_ silence. She started walking away from him without a word and he followed, he always did. 

"Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?" They were almost home, five more minutes.

"I thought we're spending the night in." She quirked an eyebrow at him. It was the first time she's talked to him since he got to the dance studio.

"I know but it's also our anniversary." At least that's what their papers said. They didn't pick this day to get married. Their life was pre-arranged for them after all.

Natasha kept her eyes on him for a while and he felt as if his skin was burning with every passing second that she didn't look away. He knew that she didn't buy into that whole anniversary thing. It wasn't important to her. The mission always came first and at the moment the mission was bound and gagged inside the trunk of her car in their garage. 

"Fine." He folded. "I can cook." He pulled into their driveway and expected her to just head inside like she normally did, but this time he felt her lips on his cheek, the one that was burning earlier. 

"I'll cook." She whispered and slipped away. She was still wearing those leggings she was wearing during class and it did wonders for her ass. She knew this, of course, which was why she sauntered away the way that she did. James watched as she slipped into their house before he grabbed his keys from the ignition and followed her, only stopping in his tracks when he noticed a moving truck parked in front of the vacant house across the street. 

The house has been on the market for months now so it wasn't really a surprise to him that new people were moving in. They had to have new neighbors eventually. He kept his eye on the house through the windows as he went inside, trying to see who the new neighbors were. He jogged up the stairs and into their bedroom to get a better view. "Someone's moving into the old house."

"What?" He heard Natasha yell from the bathroom. She emerged a couple of minutes later in a towel, she was taking out the pins that held her hair up.

"New neighbors." His eyes followed the blonde woman who was carrying a box in her arms. She seemed to be laughing at something the man behind her was saying. 

"Should we drop by tonight? Welcome them to the neighborhood or something?" 

"Tonight?" James became aware of how close she was to him when he felt her shoulder against his. Her hair was down now. She looked beautiful. "It's our anniversary." He reminded her again, at this point he didn't know why he even bothered.

"We won't be long anyway. We have _things_ to do." Natasha walked back into the bathroom and turned the shower on. "We can give them a bottle of wine or something."

James considered it for a minute before he walked over to their bed to take off his shoes. "Okay. But not the expensive one." He called out and shrugged off the jacket he'd been wearing, followed by his socks, then his shirt. They'd drop by after dinner to welcome the new neighbors and  _then_ they'll take care of the man in their garage. He was turning out to be such a nuisance that he just wanted to kill him to get it over with.

"You're taking too long, James." She sounded like she was whining but he could picture her smirking.

James sighed but he smiled anyway. He got up and followed her into the bathroom, his jeans already unbuttoned by the time his eyes found hers through the steam. He didn't know what she was thinking most of the time and never really knew how she felt even after all these years of being together, but he knew that she knew that she had power over him. He gave her that power the moment they met.


	2. Ideal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter mentions a brief but implied past sexual abuse.

Natasha cooked James and herself steak for their anniversary. It wasn't the best steak that she's had in her life and if they had gone out for dinner, it would have been less stressful, but she didn't want to leave the house for too long. And maybe she also wanted to do something for the man who was her husband. They spent their dinner mostly talking about work - _real_ work, not the kids at that expensive academy in the city or the girls in her ballet class.

James had been adamant about returning the man in her trunk to their superiors but Natasha's patience was running low. She wanted to dispose of him immediately.

"Why are you being so tense about this?" He asked. They were washing the dishes side by side now and she didn't like where this conversation was going. He didn't need to know why her hands itched to drive a knife into the bastard's chest. He didn't need to know that she's met the man before, back home, before she's met him.

"I don't like having strangers in my house." She made a point of looking him directly in the eyes for that. She didn't want him to ask questions, it wasn't his job to.

Natasha watched as James surrendered, almost physically caving into himself. She wanted to reach over to him and tell him to just trust her but he was already wiping his hands on the towel and moving away from her to look for the bottle of wine they had hidden in one of their cupboards.

She let the silence sit between them as they walked over to the neighbor's house. The lights were still on and she heard the faint sound of someone laughing when they approached the door. James pressed on the doorbell and they waited. A rustling, a quiet curse probably from a stubbed toe, and then the locks. Natasha grabbed onto James' arm and put on her biggest smile just in time for the door to open. A tall blonde man with ruffled hair and red cheeks was smiling at them.

"Hi. We're from across the street." James started. "Just wanted to pop by and welcome you guys to the neighborhood."

"Ah, yeah, hi." He wiped his hands on his pants before offering up a handshake. "Steve."

"James. My friends call me Bucky." He shook the man's hand briefly and looked over at Natasha. "This is my wife, Natasha."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you. We brought wine."

A blonde woman popped up beside Steve, smiling at them as her arm wrapped around his midsection. "Wine sounds great. Hi, I'm Sharon. Why don't you guys come in?"

She led the man in her arm away from the door to make space for Natasha and James and soon led them to their kitchen. The house was still a mess. Boxes were everywhere. On their way in, Natasha spotted a mattress set up in the living room - pillows haphazardly thrown onto it, sheets tangled. 

"Sorry for the mess. I've managed to unpack some of the kitchen before this one here started distracting me." Sharon explained, rummaging through one of the boxes to find something. _They must have been newlyweds_ , Natasha thought. They were so bright and enthusiastic and _blonde._

"Lived here long?" Steve asked James.

"Yeah, about five years." James' eyes were scanning the room discreetly, trying to make an inventory of the things he found. They were just kitchen supplies, no big deal, but he wanted to be careful. Natasha was doing the same thing.

"Aha!" Sharon exclaimed, pulling out wine glasses from the box on the floor. She placed them on the kitchen counter and went back to rummaging some more. "Where did I put the cork screw?"

"How long have you been married?" Natasha asked Steve who was now trying to help Sharon with the cork screw.

"Oh, we're not married yet," Sharon explained. "The wedding's been postponed a couple of times because we've both been busy."

Natasha sat on one of the stools on the island and James stood right beside her, his hand on the small of her back. It wasn't so much for the cover as it was for _him_. After all these years it felt natural for him to just be in close proximity to her, no matter if they were alone or not. He offered her a little smile when she looked his way and she returned it promptly before asking more questions. "Really? What do you guys do? Doctors or something?"

"No. God, no." Steve chuckled, tapping Sharon on the shoulder with the screw driver he found. "I went on two tours back to back and just got back. Sharon works long hours at SHIELD."

Natasha shot James a look then, her expression blank but he knew exactly what she was thinking. "SHIELD? That government office?" She asked. By then, Steve was already working on the wine bottle they brought. She could feel James rubbing circles against her back with his thumb.

"Yeah, it's not as glamorous as people keep making it out to be. I'm a data analyst. All the paperwork falls on my lap."

"To be honest, everything sounds exciting to me. I'm a teacher." James chuckled then, his hand still on the small of Natasha's back.

"Yeah? What do you teach?" Sharon leaned against the island, the smile still on her face. "Wait let me guess, literature? You have that vibe."

"He teaches languages," Natasha answered before he could, taking his hand from where it had rested on her back pulling on it so that he'd put it on her waist, effectively making him half wrap his arm around her and stand closer to her. Natural. 

"Languages? Like, more than one?"

"Don't get him started. He'll just show off."

"Yeah, right now it's German and Portuguese." James had a grin on his face. Teaching languages was a good cover. He didn't need to work full time, but he spent enough time around the students and their very rich and very influential families to gather intelligence. Even something as small as gossip at a charity event could lead to something useful.

Steve started pouring them all a glass of wine, Natasha smiling at him when he handed her the first one. She took a short sip, barely even tasting it, before leaning back against James. "He's one of those annoying polyglots. One minute we're having a normal conversation, you know, in English, and suddenly it's ten other languages. I could never keep up." A lie. They could hold full conversations in at least five different languages, but their neighbors didn't have to know that.

"But German and Portuguese are my specialties."

"That sounds awesome, I mean, I took like six semesters of Russian once but I could barely remember anything." Sharon took a sip of her wine and nodded her head. "This is good wine. I hope it's not expensive."

Natasha went along with Sharon's laugh but her eyes wouldn't leave the girl's face. A SHIELD employee who knew how to speak in _her_ tongue? This wasn't a coincidence, them being here. It made her want to walk back to her garage and just put a bullet in the man's head so that this woman would have no loose ends to pull on.

"How about you, Natasha? Teaching as well?" Steve asked.

"Kind of. I'm a ballet teacher."

" _No way._ You're a ballerina?" Sharon beamed suddenly, taking a seat on the stool next to hers. "I knew it. You have that vibe." Again with the vibes.

"What vibe?" Steve furrowed his brows and looked at James as if to say he's sorry for Sharon's sudden burst.

"That regal, elegant vibe."

 _She's cute,_ Natasha decided. She was still a little bit on edge because of the SHIELD thing and she definitely did not trust her, but she was cute. They both were. The blondes from across the street. They seemed harmless for now, but she was going to keep an eye on them.

"You're too nice." She really was. Natasha looked over and saw James had already finished his glass of wine, signaling that it was time to leave. "Well, we'll be going. I'm sure you guys are tired from the move. We need to wake up early for the market tomorrow too. Right, sweetheart?"

James nodded and made room for Natasha to slide off her seat. "Yeah. We like going to the Sunday farmers market." He explained.

"You guys are so ideal." Sharon commented and hopped off her own seat, her and Steve walking them back to the door.

"Any little ones yet?" Steve asked James, bringing a hand on his shoulder. Natasha dropped the smile she'd been sporting the whole night and looked over at her husband, not saying a word. _This was his to handle._

"Not yet." He shook his head and maintained the smile on his face before looking back at Natasha. "We're trying though."

"It was really nice meeting you." Natasha ignored the way he looked at her and went instead to give Sharon a quick hug. "Welcome to the neighborhood." Natasha started to walk away, James immediately following her after giving the couple a big smile.

"We'll see you around!" Steve called out before closing their front door. James put an arm around Natasha's shoulders as they walked back and kissed the top of her head, for effect, just in case the neighbors were still looking.

"You can stop now I'm pretty sure they went back to fucking." Natasha deadpanned. It was wrong to keep being mean to him, she knew this. He had no clue as to why she was feeling the way she was. It was their anniversary for crying out loud. But this was personal. What she had against the man in the trunk of her car was personal.

"I know." He held onto her anyway, because that was how he was. He tolerated the times when she hated the world even if it included him. "They seem harmless enough. Sharon being a SHIELD employee though..."

"Data analyst. Didn't know data analysts could afford to live in this neighborhood."

"Well, maybe the Steve guy's loaded or she's a really, _really_ important data analyst." He opened the front door for her and watched as she stalked into the garage instead of going upstairs like he hoped she would. He followed, yet again. _He always did._ "What are you doing?" They talked about this already. They were going to wait for a signal before they do anything to the man in the trunk.

"I'm going to get rid of him." Natasha didn't turn on the lights in the garage to avoid raising suspicion from the neighbors but she found her gun in a compartment in the shadows anyway. She knew this house like the back of her hand.

"Nat--"

Before he could continue the sentence, Natasha was opening the trunk of her car. Inside was an old, almost balding man. His legs and hands were tied and he had a gag in his mouth. He hasn't eaten in at least two days. Good. _Suffer._ " _Captain._ I believe you've overstayed your welcome."

"Captain?" James made his way to her, his hand on her arm as she screwed the suppressor onto her gun. "Natasha." She wouldn't listen. When she set her mind to something, there was nothing he could do. That's how it's always been with them. "Natasha, you can't do this here. It's reckless."

Natasha glared at him. She could barely see the rest of his face, but his eyes reflected the little light that was peering through the windows. She hadn't realized how labored her breaths have gotten. "Move."

"No." He put himself between her and the car. "Not until you tell me what this is all about."

"He's a risk. Having him here is dangerous. Is that not reason enough for you?"

"No, it's not. You were the one who kept telling me that the mission had to go first. This _isn't_ the mission." Both of his hands were on her arms now. It kept her in place, yes, but he knew that she could easily get out of his grasp. There was something with the way she looked at him, at the way that this has been throwing her off her game for days now since they got this mission. All they needed to do was deliver this traitor to their superiors and that was that. It was easy. Why was she making this more difficult than it had to be?

Natasha stared him down, counting on the fact that he always conceded when it came to her. He didn't know the man in the trunk like she did. Didn't know the things she went through to be in the position she was in back at home. She was young. _So young_. She was their best student, their prized possession, and what did the man do? _What men often did to beautiful things._

She could feel her blood boiling, so ready to fight James just to shoot the bastard in the head. Natasha heard the man struggle and groan behind James and she snapped out of it, the memories of when she was younger receding back into the confines of her mind, a place she never visited. Tucked away in a box, never to be spoken about. She let her shoulders drop, her eyes looking past her husband's frame before she shoved the gun in his chest.

Her backing down, it wasn't a common occurrence. James held onto her gun and watched as she started walking away. He was still at a loss as to why this whole conflict began in the first place. They were doing so well just a couple of days ago. He decided that if he wasn't going to get answers from her, he was going to get it from the only other person he can. He reached down to take the gag out of the man's mouth. "Speak." He ordered, his jaw tense. He wanted for this to be over too. He had papers to grade.

Natasha was about to turn the knob on the door, determined to crawl into bed and forget everything that had just happened, when she heard James talking, but not to her. "James." She warned. 

" _Comrade,_ " the man spoke in Russian, his voice was course as expected, but the tone he took didn't settle well with James. " _You've gotten yourself one hell of a wife._ " The bastard had the audacity to chuckle, his laughter breaking into a cough.

"James, please. Let's just go to bed." She knew that she should have just finished him herself. She didn't want James to know anything about what he's done. It wasn't something worth knowing.

The grin on the man's face, he's seen that before. Back at the academy when he was young, while he was still in training, one of his friends would wear the same smile after spending a night with a woman he's got his eyes on. The pieces suddenly started fitting together. Somehow, he knew why Natasha was so adamant about putting a bullet in his brain. James put the gag back into the man's mouth, both to shut him up and to wipe the disgusting look on his face. His fingers tightened on the gun, his jaw clenched as his eyes looked for Natasha's in the dark. She was still standing near the door.

Natasha could feel something heavy in the air as the man in the trunk, her old Captain, struggled against his restraints. Muffled groaning filled her ears. Her hand was still on the door though, she was still waiting for James to shut the trunk and just follow her again like he always did. He was doing something in the dark that she couldn't quite make out. It wasn't until she heard the dull sound of a gun being shot that she realized what was going on. She felt her heart sink to her stomach, almost jumping when James finally slammed the trunk shut. She kept her head down and waited for him to say something, anything, but all he did was walk past her.

This time, it was her turn to follow him.


	3. Partners

It's been a week since the new neighbors moved in, a week since James pulled the trigger to kill the man Natasha's so despised all these years. They went to bed that night as if nothing happened, but it was so painfully obvious that this was something that bothered both of them. _Fuck,_ Natasha thought as she stared at his sleeping form, _this isn't what I signed up for._

At approximately 5 o'clock in the morning the day after, James got up and drove her car... somewhere, she didn't know. He got back exactly an hour and twenty minutes later with pancakes and coffee. She knew this because she counted. The body was gone, disposed of. He woke her up with a kiss on her temple, but she'd already been awake. She never slept. When she drove herself to the studio the following day, there had been no trace of there ever being anyone in the trunk of her car. It was squeaky clean.

They never talked about it again and she was thankful that he didn't bring it up, thankful for a lot of things she was too prideful to admit to. Words were never her strong suit, at least not when it came to him. She could weave her way into conversations when it came to targets but she always came short when James was involved. But she'd hold his hand without him prompting her to and cook him his favorites for dinner. All week she did this, as if to atone for the way she forced him into doing something he didn't have to. A silent apology. A prayer.

Their marriage wasn't for love or convenience. _Love was for children_. They were placed where they were because it was imperative that Russia had intelligence officers in place. Just in case, they said. Just in case what? They didn't know either. It was old fashioned, really. Something they had done during the Cold War when so many of their agents were scattered in different areas of the country. There weren't that much of them anymore, but that meant that there was little room for mistakes.

She only met him a couple of days before they boarded a plane to America and never looked back. Saying that it had been awkward would have been an understatement, but James had a way with words and he wasn't terrible to look at either. Their covers were crafted with them so that they could perfectly assimilate to their new lives.

The world was at a tipping point and they had jobs to do. Sometimes it involved having to put people in the trunks of their cars, most times it was just to extract information and relay it to the motherland. It was easier at first when the life they've built on paper didn't feel real. But these days when she had to extract information through promiscuous techniques, a part of her wished that she didn't have to do it.

This week, she had to go in. It had to be her. The target was a senator's personal assistant who had a thing for blondes. Typical. She wore a wig and blue contact lenses, flirted with him a little - a suggestive touch here, a giggle there - men were so easy. She invited him up to have some fun at her hotel room. She was half naked and grinding on top of him when she suggested that she was going to get a drink, to slip in a pill that would knock him out.

It was easy enough. Men usually stopped thinking when they had their dicks out. A few moments later, she was transferring files from his laptop to her hard drive. It didn't take that long and she was out of there in no time. She just wanted to shower and sleep. The files weren't urgent, she was just an overachiever. James had been waiting for her in a car down the street. He'd been waiting there the whole time.

When they were out on missions like this, when he had to let her do her thing, it didn't always feel so heavy on his chest. But lately, he's been dreading them. He hated knowing that she was with another man. It wasn't real, he knew that, but was their farce any better? The drive home was silent. Natasha had tossed her wig to the back seat of the car and started removing her make-up.

By the time they got home, Natasha was exhausted. She handed him the drive with the files and went immediately for a shower. She wanted to scrub the feeling of that man's hands from her body. She had a toothbrush in her mouth when she finally came out of the bathroom. James was on the bed in his pajamas, his back against the headboard with a laptop on his lap, going through the files.

"Anything?"

"This guy's into some freaky shit." James scrunched his nose and looked up at her. "Nothing yet. Just pornography and an extensive collection of pirated Turkish soap operas."

She stalked back into the bathroom to rinse. James could hear her gargling from the bed. _Was he that bad?_ He couldn't help but smirk at the thought of it. His eyes stayed on the screen in front of him when she walked over to the closet to dress. He expected her to just slip into bed and sleep, let him do his thing, but she took the laptop from him and set it down on the bedside table before taking its place on his lap. His hands immediately went to her waist, a smile on his lips.

"Hi." She said, barely above a whisper. Her hair was still a bit damp from her shower. She looked beautiful.

"Hi." He said back, pushing himself from the headboard to wrap his arms around her waist.

Natasha didn't say anything for a while, her eyes taking in his features instead. He had a strong jaw, eyes that looked at her like she was the only person in the world, or at least the only one that mattered. There was a permanent crease in the middle of his forehead from worrying too much about her but he definitely wasn't hard to look at.

She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, breathing him in. She was tired and she wouldn't be able to say the thing she wanted to say when he was looking at her the way that he was. "I know it wasn't easy." She started. "I know it's not easy now. Living with me."

"Nat--"

"There are things in my life I don't want you to know about because truthfully I'd prefer if you saw no faults in me. But what happened last week... that man..."

"You don't have to tell me." James was rubbing circles against her back, an attempt to comfort her. "He's gone. It's over."

"You shouldn't have had to do what you did."

"I did it for you."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to."

"Why?"

"Because..." _Why_ was the question, wasn't it? Why was he bending over backwards to please this woman? Their marriage was nothing but a cover. They were agents, they had one purpose. But over time, he's gotten so soft for her. He didn't like it, resisted it at first but a lot of things can change over the course of five years. "We're partners."

She pulled away from him then, slowly, as if peeling herself off of him was such a task. Her eyes bore into his, her hands coming up to push his hair back. Her handsome husband. Natasha gave him a soft kiss. One of the perks of having a partner. "You're too good to me."

James pulled her closer, completely wrapping his arms around her as he went in for another kiss. He could taste the minty mouthwash that she used and he smiled up at her. Whatever it was between them, if it was just simple partnership, friendship, or - god forbid - _love_ , he didn't mind going through lengths for her.

He continued kissing her - her mouth, her jaw, her neck. His hands made their way over to the tops of her thighs, pushing her nightgown up a bit as if asking for permission. Natasha's hands were already unbuttoning his pajama top and sliding it from his shoulders. He pulled her nightgown off her then before he felt her hand come between them to slip past the elastic of his pajama bottoms. He couldn't help but let out a groan when he felt her cold hand on him. They were good partners, he thought, they worked like a well-oiled machine. As he sucked on a patch of skin at the base of her neck, James came to the conclusion that when it came down to choosing between the mission and Natasha, he'd choose her. He'd always choose her.


	4. Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shitty and sad and I'm sorry.

James has always been in awe of Natasha. He was a top operative, one of the best out there, been training his whole life. He was good at his job, good with sussing out people and figuring out their weaknesses, their deepest darkest desires, but he could never figure her out. They were on good terms and worked well together, they'd even have their moments like last night, but he had never fully understood how her brain worked. Maybe that adds to the alluring mystery of it all. He trusted her enough, that's for sure, but he didn't know if she trusted him.

He'd been staring at her sleeping face for longer than he would admit. She was beautiful and there was no doubting that. There would usually be a crease on her forehead whenever she slept. She never did sleep easy. But he was glad that she looked a bit more relaxed now. There was no tension there; she wasn't fighting her demons in her dreams. It was well past 9 o'clock but the sky was a little gloomy and the house was still. He was about to reach over to touch her face (why he wanted to do this, he didn't know either) when he heard a faint knock coming from downstairs.

He expected Natasha to open her eyes immediately but she was unmoving, peaceful. He liked it.

There was another knock and James quietly slipped from the bed to grab his clothes from where the scattered on the floor. He was having difficulties with the buttons of his top and decided to just leave it as he opened the door only to find their new neighbor, Sharon. His fingers immediately went to button his pajamas. "Hey, Sharon."

"Hi. Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Nah. I've been awake for hours." He didn't sleep much in general and his body clock wouldn't let him sleep past seven in the morning tops.

"Ah, good. I just wanted to know if you guys have a toolbox I can borrow? We used to have one but it got lost in the move."

James smoothed out his hair after he was done with the buttons. He probably looked like shit. "Yeah, it's in the garage." He opened the door for her, ushering her in. He watched her carefully for a minute as her eyes wandered.

The house was dressed like every other house on the block except for the little touches Natasha made here and there - the fresh flowers, the paintings, their "wedding" photos. "It's this way." He didn't trust her enough to leave her in the house by herself. He opened the door that led to the garage where Natasha's car was parked. If Sharon had asked for the toolbox a week ago, he'd be in a totally different mood. She came right on time.

"I'm assembling Ikea cabinets. Steve's gone to the VA so I'm flying solo with the house today." She explained, trailing behind him. He turned on the light to get a better view of their garage. Again, like any typical garage, it was messy. He didn't actually know where the toolbox was. It's been so long since he's had to use it.

"Where did I put that thing?" James' eyes scanned the shelves and Sharon did the same, helping him look. He really wished she wouldn't. God knows there was a gun here somewhere. But this was America, right?

Sharon peeked into some boxes. They generally contained beaten up pointe shoes and Christmas decorations. "Is this it?" She tried pulling on what looked like your standard toolbox but failed to realize it was underneath another, much smaller box. All James could do was watch as the box fell on the floor to reveal its contents.

A pair of small booties and mittens.

"Oh, my bad." Sharon put down the toolbox and collected the things from the floor before realizing what they were. Baby things. "I thought you said you didn't have kids."

James took the box and the baby stuff from Sharon and shoved them in the top-most shelf. "We don't." _Not anymore._ "We tried."

Realizing what she literally stumbled into, Sharon placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair again before picking up the toolbox. "It's alright." He offered up a smile but he didn't know if it was to make Sharon or himself feel better.

He and Natasha never spoke about it, mostly because it hurt them in a way they didn't expect. It was only supposed to be part of the cover, to establish themselves in the neighborhood. Instead of a child, their house was haunted by a ghost.

James led Sharon back into the house and handed her the toolbox, his mind now occupied by a ghost that sat on his chest. "Do you need any help? I'm pretty good at assembling things."

"Oh that's alright, I can handle it. Thanks though. I'll get this back to you in no time." Sharon gave him an apologetic smile and left. He watched her through the window and was startled when he felt someone breathing next to him.

"Jesus Christ." He muttered. Natasha was in her robe and was watching Sharon as well. They waited for her to get inside her house before they faced each other. "Good morning." She was always beautiful in the morning.

"What did she want?"

"She borrowed the toolbox. She's putting together furniture or something."

" _Cute._ " Natasha started walking into the kitchen to get the coffee started. "The scan's complete. There's nothing incriminating in Sanders' computer. We need access to the Senator directly."

James sighed and sat on one of the stools as he watched her get eggs ready. She never cooked breakfast was his first thought. He had to get to the Senator himself was his second. He wasn't looking forward to it. Seduction was easy, but he didn't particularly like it. Not these days, not anymore.

"Isn't she running for another term? I'm sure she has a volunteer sign up sheet somewhere."

"Or you could just torture her in the basement for information." Natasha leaned against the counter across from him then, her eyes on his, serious for a moment. When he frowned, she broke character. "God, you're so easy."

He couldn't help but roll his eyes once she turned away to continue with the omelet she had started. He _was_ getting easy, but he wouldn't put it past her to torture someone in their basement, however, this op didn't need all that unnecessary drama. They just needed information, nothing more. This could be done one in two ways: get into the Senator's inner circle, close enough that he'd get access to her files, which was going to take months at the very least. Or, they could break into her office in the middle of the night. In and out, won't take more than an hour if they get lucky.

"Breaking into her office would be too risky and would draw too much unnecessary attention if we get caught," Natasha said as if she's read his mind all this time.

"Infiltration would mean months of work." He didn't mean to sound like he was whining or anything, it just came out like that.

"That's why we're here." She shot him another look before going back to the pan in front of her. He hadn't even noticed that she put bread in the toaster or that she had red marks on the base of her neck from last night. He wanted to kiss her again.

"I know." He slipped from where he was sitting and made his way over to her, wrapping his arms around her midsection and placing a kiss on her neck.

"Besides, all you need to do is bat your eyelashes and you'll be in her pants in no time." Natasha kept her tone steady, focusing on the eggs she was cooking.

"It's not that easy."

"Please. I see how people look at you when we go out."

"Are you sure they're not just looking at you?"

"I _know_ when people look at me. They're definitely looking at _you_. Sam from the supermarket. _Other Sam_ from Starbucks."

Natasha moved around to put the omelet in an actual plate with James still clinging onto her. She didn't say anything about it and continued to put bacon on the pan. They stood there without talking for a while, the sizzle of the bacon the only thing breaking complete silence. He didn't know what came over him, if it was sleep deprivation or something else, but before he knew it the words just spilled out of his mouth.

"Do you want to try again?"

"Try what?" He couldn't see her face clearly but he knew she had her eyebrow arched at the question.

James didn't answer for a while and instead put his hand over her stomach where there once was a bump. "You know."

He felt her grow tense in his arms, soon her hands were prying his away from her and she stepped away. "No."

"Natasha--"

" _No._ " Her voice was louder, angrier. Fuck. He was so stupid.

"It's for the cover. We've been here long enough, people are going to keep asking about it. There's a fucking SHIELD agent living across the street."

"And a baby would, what? Make her go away?"

"I just thought--"

"You thought what? That we can be a little family unit? That you'd finally have your _American_ dream?"

All James could do was stare at her, her words cutting through him like a knife. He knew she wouldn't like the idea of it. He knew they were going to have this argument. What did he honestly expect from her? She lost a child. They took care of that child for months, they were even thinking of names. She was going to be a girl and they wanted a nice, simple name that wasn't too much like anything. They decided they were going to choose from the flowers Natasha liked. But one day while he was in the middle of giving a lecture on German tenses, he got a phone call from the hospital.

It took them months to recover from it, months before she let him in again. Somehow, it just became a thing they never spoke of ever again. Whatever relationship they've built before that was completely destroyed. They've been rebuilding slowly, doing good by each other. They worked better, life went back to normal. Aside from the issue with the man in the trunk, they haven't gotten into any big fights. Not until now.

"Fuck." She muttered, going back to the bacon that's burned in the pan. She turned the fire off and scraped the bacon into a plate she's prepared before tossing the burnt pan into the sink. He felt it clatter inside his brain. Surprisingly, she took another pan and started with the bacon again. James still couldn't speak, he didn't know what to say. He stood there awkwardly beside her as she went about with breakfast. Fucking breakfast.

He was about to leave the kitchen when she sighed loud enough for him to hear and turned to face him, her eyes avoiding his. "I'm not angry with you." She took another deep breath, calming herself down. "I'm just not ready for... that. The possibility of it happening again is high--"

"No. Don't do that." James took a tentative step towards her, his hand reaching for hers. She finally looked him in the eye then and she had to stop herself from crying. She's cried enough for the ghost in their house. "I understand. I just thought we would be able to handle it this time is all."

They'd been too young then, too new at this whole living like a married couple thing to take care of a child. Natasha squeezed his hand and turned back to take the bacon out of the pan on time this time. When she turned back to face him again, he was another step closer. His arms were around her before she could even speak, embracing her.

Natasha wasn't a woman easily read. That's what made her so good at her job. She was unpredictable and sometimes a little stubborn, but it made working with her all the more exciting. He's long accepted the fact that he might never really know anything about her aside from the sides of her she was willing to show him and he's okay with that. He had his own secrets. What mattered to him was that at the end of the day, they were still partners. They had each other's backs no matter what.


End file.
